It's A Wonderful Life
by RCB
Summary: A third story in the same verse as "How Winchesters Say 'I Love You' and "Our Father, Who Art...". Rating is for language and there is a more detailed header at beginning of the story.


**Title:** It's A Wonderful Life  
**Rating:** R for language  
**Word Count:** 9300  
**Characters:** Dean/OFC: Sarah Winchester, Sam, Bobby Singer, Castiel aka Bobby Winchester, OFC: Louise "Lucy" Winchester  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** Religious icon blasphemy, potty mouth language, and things my kids have actually DONE.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything at all, but I think you already knew that.  
**Summary:** First there was "How Winchesters Say I Love You", and then came "Our Father, Who Art...", so I had to try another. This is what I came up with.

Many, many thanks to the wonderful **mrstotten** for the beta on this. She fixed all my bad grammerz, and made awesome suggestions even when she had her hands full of real life. All remaining mistakes are my own.

It's A Wonderful Life

**December 11, 2015**

_**Fourteen days until Christmas**_

There were three words that Dean Winchester dreaded hearing. The sound of them made him slump his shoulders and drag his feet before slowly coming to attention.

"Robert! John! Winchester!"

And there they were. He'd known it had been too quiet today. Dean got up from the couch and followed the sound of Sarah's screeching.

She was at the back door. Bobby was standing in the snow, wearing that ridiculous snow suit that she'd bought him, with his head down. His suit was all crooked as if he'd tried to take it off and had put it back on all wrong. His hat was half off, revealing his spiky blonde hair underneath.

Sarah turned to Dean, "Do you know what your son just did?" she demanded to know.

Dean, who had been watching football in the front of the house wondered sarcastically, but silently, how he was supposed to know what Bobby had done in the back of the house.

"No," Dean replied, resisting the urge to sigh deeply. With his kids, it was always something. He wondered what it was going to be like in ten years, considering the kind of havoc Bobby was able to wreak at only four years old.

"He was playing with Hannah and Ken from down the street and they all made snow angels. Then, _your_ son peeled down his suit, and **peed** all over their angels!!" Sarah reported.

Dean snorted loudly and started to laugh. Sarah gave him a warning look and he stopped immediately, assuming a serious, more somber expression.

"This has got to stop. He's going to get arrested for indecent exposure before he ever sets foot in kindergarten!" she went on. Dean did sigh then, she was just getting warmed up. For an ex-stripper she was awfully damn hung up on indecent exposure.

"Bobby, you can't just…urinate on things. Okay?" Sarah asked, lowering the volume of her voice now and surprising Dean that she was willing to drop it so quickly.

"Okay Mommy," Bobby said at once, lifting his head up and giving her a damn fine impression of a perfect angel, blue eyes wide and innocent and Dean silently gave the kid props; he had skills.

"Well, the kids went home, so why don't you come inside? I'll make you some hot chocolate," Sarah decided, looking tired. Dean felt a twinge of guilt, she was tired because Lucy hadn't been sleeping through the night, and the afternoon shift at the hospital had been somewhat busy lately.

Sarah had said she wanted to work and she'd worked hard to put herself through nursing school, but he was old fashioned. He would've liked for her to have the choice to stay home with the kids at least, and if that made him a macho, old fashioned, male pig, he was willing to live with that.

"C'mon kiddo. I'll help you get out of that," Dean told him, figuring maybe he'd talk to Bobby yet again, not that it would help. The kid could find trouble anywhere, his most common excuse being, "I just wanted to see what would happen!"

Bobby bounded into the house, with all the energy of a dozen four year olds.

He was always like that, always in a hurry, jumping into whatever the occasion was, full tilt and without hesitation. He was covered in bruises, always falling or bumping into something in his haste to get to the goal. Sometimes he made Dean feel old, but most of the time, Bobby's zeal for life was contagious and he felt younger.

Dean helped him tug his boots off, and then started stripping him out of the heavy snow suit that would've probably served the kid well in the artic circle. "I'm sweaty," he complained.

"Yeah, sorry about the stupid suit," Dean apologized again in a whisper.

"I like the color," Bobby said, politically neutral as always.

"Yeah, I know sport," Dean agreed. "Red is pretty cool."

"I've decided to be a fireman. When I grow bigger," Bobby said solemnly, looking Dean in the eye.

"A fireman, huh? Sounds good," Dean said as he helped Bobby get his feet out now.

"They help people, I like that. I wanted to be a policeman, but I don't want to have to hurt anyone," Bobby went on making his career choice.

"Okay," Dean said carefully, wondering what he'd been watching on television. They were pretty careful, and usually had him watch pre-screened DVD's because he tended to get upset over any kind of death, or even the hint of death. CNN was out of the question completely.

"One hot chocolate, and one beer," Sarah announced from the kitchen.

"I'm pretty sure the hot chocolate is for me, and the beer is for you," Bobby informed Dean as they walked to the kitchen table together. Sarah winked as she handed over Dean's beer.

"That suit is not stupid," she informed him in a whisper.

"And why is he always _my_ son when he gets into trouble?" Dean whispered back.

"Because he probably learned it from you," Sarah informed him, no longer whispering.

"Sarah, come on. Like I taught him how to piss on a snow angel," Dean complained.

"Bobby?" Sarah asked, giving Dean a knowing look. "Where did you get the idea that it was okay to pee outside, and not in the bathroom?"

Bobby, his first born son, his only son, threw him under the bus without hesitation.

"Daddy."

________________________________________________________________________

When Sam came home from the library, Sarah was on the phone making fervent apologies to the mother of the two kids that Bobby had apparently traumatized. Dean personally didn't think that it was that big of a deal, but leave it to women to go on about it for a half an hour.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, tossing his heavy bag onto the couch.

"Bobby." Dean replied.

"Oh," Sam said, not needing further explanation. Sam knew that Bobby was a handful and a half on a good day. Currently, he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, trying to fit a square block into a round hole. His face was screwed up in determination, giving the project his undivided attention. Dean considered explaining the impossibility of it, but decided against it; at least Bobby was keeping busy and out of trouble.

Besides, Sarah was busy on the phone, Lucy was taking a nap, and Bobby was occupied. He needed to talk to Sam and this was the perfect opportunity.

He had a loving wife, who had given him two kids, and a home. Sure, he paid the mortgage, most of the time anyway, (they were currently two months behind,) but she made it more than a roof and walls. It was home and back in the day, living motel room to motel room, he'd always wondered what it would be like to have one. It didn't hurt that she was still as hot as the day that he met her either.

Then of course, Bobby had come along, right then and there Sarah, Sam and himself, had taken a vow. Normal, white picket fence living. Let someone else take a turn at saving the world.

He had a family now, and just as Dean had been trying to figure out a way to bring up the subject, Sarah had saved him the trouble and insisted Sam live with them in the third bedroom.

He was lucky. Everything he loved was under one roof and sometimes he was sure none of it was real; that he was living in a Djinn dream. They had cut themselves off from the hunting world entirely, and though they received visits from "Big" Bobby, they had been careful to steer the conversation clear of all things that went bump in the night. Bobby had understood, and even told Dean that this was their chance; they'd earned it and John would have wanted this for them.

So why did he miss the smell of exhaust, cemetery dirt, and gun powder? Why was he wishing for the feeling of his sawed off in his hands, and for his life to be in danger? Why did he feel that twinge of nostalgia and jealousy every time he talked to Big Bobby on the phone?

Because he was a jerk, and he didn't deserve any of them. The wife, the kids, or the home. But still, he had to get it off his chest, before he went insane.

"Hey, I uh, wanted to talk to you," Dean told Sam motioning with his head to the front door. Sam didn't say a word; he got up from the couch and went straight outside, Dean at his heels.

It was freezing and while Dean was trying to make his lips form the words of confession, he blew on his hands and rubbed them together, stalling. The steam from his breath hanging between them as heavily as the silence.

Sam didn't press him for an explanation. He just leaned against the frozen beam of the porch and watched the neighborhood kids play a game of tag across the street.

"You ever think we'd end up in a place like this?" Sam asked after a few minutes.

"No," Dean said immediately. "I'm still not convinced that it's not all a dream or something."

Sam nodded and gave him a look that said he understood.

"You're lucky Dean. Sarah's awesome," he said.

"I know," Dean answered, looking at the kids playing.

They fell silent again, and Dean was tired of standing in the damn cold.

"We need to find a job," he blurted out.

"What?"

"A job. A ghost, a nasty ass one. Or a demon. Oh God, maybe a vamp? I could so go for taking something's head off right now."

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "You have a bad day at the garage?"

"What? No. Don't you ever miss it?" Dean asked him.

"It's two weeks until Christmas, Dean. If we found something, we couldn't just take off," Sam said carefully, looking at Dean as if he'd lost his mind.

Dean swallowed, and nodded. He was right, of course. What kind of father even contemplates leaving his family right before Christmas anyway? He was always screwed up, but this was stupid, even for him.

The front door opened then and Sarah was standing there.

"Everything okay?" she asked, cordless phone still in hand, and Bobby at her side looking up at Dean curiously. He could see Lucy coming up behind them, rubbing at her blue eyes with her fists and yawning. Her pigtails were crooked, one up high and the other halfway falling out and she was carrying her favorite doll, which was missing a leg.

Dean smiled at Sarah and hoped it was convincing.

"Perfect."

**December 13, 2015**

_**Twelve days until Christmas**_

"Oh my God!"

"Sorry! It was an accident!"

"How did you even…Dean!"

"The stupid valve won't…Dean!"

"I'm sorry Mommy, it was an accident!"

"Okay, I know. It's okay. Dean!"

"WHAT! Oh _dammit_!"

"The valve's stuck."

"Move, Sarah."

"Come on Bobby, out in the hall."

"Dammit! It's froze. Sam, grab the…oh, that doesn't sound good. Is that air in the pipes?"

"Bobby, how did this happen?"

"I…flushed my underwear down the toilet."

"How the hell do you flush…oh never mind. Stupid plumbing!"

"The water's in the hallway now!"

"Thank you Sarah, for the news flash."

"Here Dean, pipe wrench!"

"Sammy run down and turn the main valve off."

"Right! Uh, where is it?"

"Jesus H. Christ."

"Shhh...honey. Daddy's not mad at you. No one is mad at you."

"Under the steps Sam. Big. Red. Handle."

"Gotcha."

"The whole house is going to be drowned! I'm getting Lucy!"

"Bobby, nothing is going to be drowned and your…Bobby!"

"Sarah, how the hell do you flush underwear down the toilet? How does this happen exactly?"

"I got Lucy! We're going to safety!"

"Bobby, everything is going to be fine."

"Dammit. Freaking… stupid. It broke off. Sam hurry up with that valve!!"

"Bobby, give me your sister. You can't take her outside in this cold."

"I won't let you be drowned, Lucy!"

"Robert John _Winchester_, you come back here!"

"Finally…good job Sam!"

"Okay, got it. Did it work?"

"Son of a….look at this mess."

"Dean, why are Bobby, Sarah and Lucy running down the street?"

**December 15, 2015**

_**Ten days until Christmas**_

"All done. You just see Frank in that office and he'll write up your bill," Dean told the owner of the brand spanking new Ford Fairlane with a charming grin.

She uncrossed her legs from the chair she'd chosen to wait in, intentionally giving Dean a peek up her skirt. He could see that she was wearing thigh high stockings, the kind Sarah used to wear when he'd first met her.

"I could just pay you, if you've got an idea of the bill," she flirted as she stood up.

Dean wiped the grease off of his hands, and winked. "Sorry, boss man handles the invoices. Not sure what he charges for an oil change."

"Well, what would you charge?" she asked slyly.

"Well, my wife would probably insist I get at least fifty. Cos' of the price of those oil filters. Ford's got a monopoly on those and they sure know it," he answered, making sure she got an eyeful of his simple gold wedding band.

"Well, then your wife undervalues you. I'd say you were worth a lot more than that," she answered, leaning against the fender of her car, playing with the top button of her silk blouse and looking him up and down.

"Hey Frank, got a customer here. Needs to check out," Dean hollered over to his boss, who eagerly came over with her bill asking, cash or credit.

She seemed annoyed about the abrupt brush off and paid in cash, telling Frank to keep the change. After she left, heels clicking against the cement floor, Frank handed Dean the extra ten since it was his tip.

"Dude, I know you're married and all, but damn…." Mike said, looking up from his engine rebuild and giving Dean a look as if he were nuts.

"Mike, if I ever cheated on my wife, it is not going to be with a chick that drives a Ford," Dean informed him, making Mike and Sam both laugh.

"True that," Mike agreed good naturedly, and went back to work.

"Never thought I'd see the day when god damn Ford ruled the world…" Dean grumbled under his breath for possibly the millionth time since two of the Big Three had gone under. His car was always a classic, but now it was a relic. It was hard to find metal that said Chevy on it any more.

"You ready for lunch?" Sam asked, cleaning the grease off his hands onto a rag.

"Yeah, sure," Dean decided; his next tune up wasn't coming to pick up for two more hours and he had plenty of time.

Dean followed Sam through the bay and into the small break room in the back of the small, independently owned garage. Frank was an okay guy to work for, and Dean really had no complaints about the job. He gave them plenty of overtime, and said he couldn't run the place without them. Most of the time he gave Dean free reign, and Dean felt as if he worked more for himself than for someone else.

While they walked, Dean went through his mental shopping list once more. They needed some plumbing supplies for the house, and a new thermostat for the hallway. He remembered the broken door knob on the kid's room then and added it to the list. Thinking of the kids reminded him of the hole in the hallway from Bobby's latest "I wanted to see what would happen" experiment that had involved a bowling ball and a series of orange road cones from his Hot Wheels playset.

Dean still hadn't figured out where Bobby had managed to find a bowling ball.

"So hey," Sam began after opening his lunch box, and grabbing a thermos off the top.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, looking to see what Sarah packed him. Standard fare, two sandwiches, an apple, and…yep a small slice of apple pie with a napkin taped to the top. Dean grabbed it off, and folded it in half quickly so that Sam wouldn't see the note she'd written on it.

"I uh…well I got a job interview tomorrow. A small law firm was looking for a paralegal," Sam said nervously.

"Seriously? I thought you decided you didn't want anything to do with that legal stuff," Dean answered, confused and forgetting all about his lunch now.

"I did, but the pays better and I was…well Dean, I think it's time I moved out," Sam said, staring at the floor and not meeting Dean's eyes.

"What? Why?" Dean asked, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach.

"Bobby and Lucy can't share a bedroom forever, Dean," Sam said, finally looking at him.

"Well, uh, you and Bobby…"

"You want me to share a bedroom with a four year old? Dean, I'm an adult. I can get my own place," Sam said firmly. "There are some apartments just around the corner; it's still in walking distance."

"Walking distance," Dean repeated dumbly.

"I…look, we're brothers. But, you've got a family Dean. It's time I moved out," Sam explained.

"_You're_ my family," Dean said, feeling a surge of anger now.

"I know that. It's just, I mean, it's crowded now," Sam replied.

Dean stared at his lunch for a few seconds, trying to comprehend.

"Don't freak out, okay? Like I said, I'll be right around the corner," Sam insisted.

Dean nodded, because it was what Sam wanted. But it wasn't the same; around the corner wasn't the same as under the same roof.

His apple pie was absolutely tasteless.

**December 19, 2015**

_**Six days until Christmas**_

"We are officially three months behind Dean, this is a foreclosure notice."

"I'll take care of it."

"With what, Dean?"

"Sarah, I said I'll take care of it."

"Yeah? Well good luck with that Dean, because on January first, I'm officially laid off."

"WHAT? What the fuck, Sarah?"

"Cut backs and downsizing. My supervisor just called me, they announced it this morning."

"Jesus Christ."

"What are we doing wrong?"

"Look, don't worry about it, okay? You know what? Screw them. You're not going back there."

"We need the money."

"I have two mortgage payments. We're heading to the bank on the way to the garage. So just..."

"We can't catch up, and you just..."

"I just what?"

"Normal people don't wake up with a beer. What is going on with you?"

"Gee Sarah, I don't know. Maybe it's all these fucking lights you leave on. Or cranking the damn thermostat up so high."

"I'm not talking about bills."

"What? Are we talking about our feelings here? Because we're busting our asses here and we're still going to lose this fucking house. But sure, let's talk about our feelings."

"You stare at the stupid TV for hours, Dean. Will you just talk to me?"

"I want to watch a little football and it's suddenly a big deal?"

"You didn't even know the score. You're not watching it."

"A normal life, Sarah. Remember the deal? Guess what? _This_ is normal. Fucking sucks, doesn't it? A zombie in front of the TV, insurmountable debt and hey, I figure maybe one or two more years of this, and I'll have the stupid beer gut to match. Won't that be great? Welcome to white picket living."

"Asshole."

Bobby heard the front door slam shut and he jumped. He hated it when they fought, and they did it almost every day now. Some people thought of the earth and all the people on it as the world, but to him the world consisted of his sister, his parents and his Uncles. When his parents fought, it was like an earthquake was threatening his whole world.

"Mom?" he asked, coming into the living room now.

Her eyes were red, but she smiled at him anyway. "Hey, ready for breakfast? How about pancakes?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Sweetie, are you crying?"

"No. Crying is for girls, like Lucy."

"No, Bobby it isn't. Come here baby."

Bobby's world enveloped him in hugs and he ate blueberry pancakes for breakfast.

**December 22, 2015**

_**Three days until Christmas**_

"I'm an Angel of the Lord!!"

"I have a message for you." Bobby boomed into the microphone.

"That's great Bobby. Keep going," Mrs. Franklin encouraged him from the side of the stage.

Bobby couldn't remember his next line and he felt strange, kind of the way he felt when Dad's car went fast.

"I...God...we have work for you," he guessed, his voice not loud or booming the way the angel was supposed to be.

"God has blessed you with a son..." Mrs. Franklin whispered, and that was supposed to be his line, but it seemed wrong. Bobby started to sweat now. He'd won this part in the play. He memorized every single verse his teacher had given him, plus he talked his Uncle Sam into giving him a bible and memorized every single Psalm. Mrs. Frankin had been so impressed that he'd gotten what he'd wanted most in the world, even more than a new bicycle.

He was "Gabriel", an angel in the play this year; it was the best part and had the most lines, and he was screwing it up.

"God has blessed you with a son..." Mrs. Franklin repeated again.

He was forgetting something. Something B.I.G. The BIG thing that he sometimes could only remember when he first woke up, not able to breathe.

"This…this is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Bobby said his voice hollow in his ears, looking at Mrs. Franklin who seemed so far away now. Somehow they left the school and went into a tunnel and he tried to remember how they got there. Mrs. Franklin started fading away then, into darkness.

"Bobby? Oh my God, Bobby? Someone call 911! Our Father, Who Art in Heaven…"

________________________________________________________________________

"What?!? Where is he?" Dean asked, dropping his rag on the ground and already heading in the direction of the car.

"They brought him here, to Mercy General. I've got Lucy with me and we're waiting while they do a C.A.T. scan," Sarah explained calmly, and he could hear Lucy fussing against the receiver.

"Frank, I got an emergency, I gotta go," Dean told him hastily, and while Frank looked concerned for him, he nodded his approval as Dean clocked out quickly.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, catching up.

"Sarah, I'll be there in ten minutes," Dean told her.

"Okay," Sarah said, the stress audible in her voice even though she was trying to hide it.

"Bobby had some kind of fit at preschool. Fainted and had a seizure," Dean said quickly. "I gotta get to the hospital."

"I'm coming with you," Sam told him, grabbing his time card and giving Frank a quick glance.

"You two take care of that young un. Call me when you know somethin'." Frank said quickly and Sam punched his card.

They half ran to the Impala, and she started up with a fierce rumble as if raring to get there herself Dean glanced in the backseat, slightly surprised as always, by the sight of Lucy's extra car seat buckled into the middle.

"Your interview," Dean remembered.

Sam gave him a look that reminded Dean of days long past.

"Drive."

________________________________________________________________________

"This is Mrs. Williams, she's from the Department of Child Welfare."

"Come again?" Dean asked, not bothering to close his mouth after.

"Bobby woke up saying that he was afraid of his father. He was somewhat confused, possibly from a concussion he received when he fell, but…"

"What?!" Sarah asked.

"Can you explain the numerous bruises on your son, Mr. Winchester?" Mrs. Williams asked, taking charge and ignoring the nervous looking emergency room doctor.

"Yeah, he's a four year old boy and he falls. A lot," Dean said glibly.

"How dare you accuse my husband…"

"I have some questions for you as well, ," Mrs. Williams informed her coldly.

"I want to see my son. Now," Dean told her, feeling the heat rise up his shoulders and neck. He ignored Sam's warning hand on his shoulder and glared at the woman accusing him of hurting his son.

"Why is Bobby terrified of you? Why would he be afraid that you'd want him killed?" Mrs. Williams demanded, all five feet of her refusing to back down.

"My kid is not afraid of me," Dean told her, "Which room is he in?" he asked Sarah.

"Third one on the right. Let's go," Sarah said, grabbing his arm and glaring at Mrs. Williams angrily.

"I'm afraid we can't allow that," Mrs. Williams said, stepping forward.

"Oh, screw you lady. I just got a call that my kid had a seizure and when I get here, you accuse me of beating him. I'm going to see him, and ain't you or anyone else stopping me," Dean said, wrapping his arm around Sarah and guiding her around the woman. Sam was carrying a very overtired and cranky Lucy, and was right at his back.

Just as they passed her, she called after them. "Is that alcohol I smell on your breath, Mr. Winchester? At two in the afternoon?"

Dean kept going and pretended that he didn't feel Sarah's body tense, or look at him like she was disappointed.

________________________________________________________________________

Bobby can't breathe.

He's being squeezed and he can't breathe. It's so dark and that sound, he can hear that sound all around him.

He wants to run and can't, there's no where _to_ go.

A light.

Bobby stares at the light and wishes he could just breathe.

________________________________________________________________________

"Bobby, honey. It's just a nightmare. Wake up, baby," Sarah said, shaking Bobby gently.

"Mommy?" Bobby asked, sucking in a deep breath and acting like he'd been deprived oxygen for hours.

"Yeah, I'm right here. So is Daddy and Uncle Sam," Sarah told him, while he rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up.

"Where's Lucy?" he asked at once, looking around the room.

"Here," Sam told him. Lucy picked her sleepy head up from his shoulder, and removed her thumb from her mouth making a small popping noise, and reached out for her older brother. Bobby relaxed a little then. Sam carried her over, and set her down on the end of the bed so she'd stop squirming to get away.

"I had a bad dream," Bobby said, laying back down.

"It's all over now, kiddo," Dean told him, sitting next to him on the other side of the bed. He looked so _small_. Dean decided that people should never have to see their kids in hospital beds, ever. He felt like someone had reached in and squeezed his heart until it quit beating.

He heard a noise behind him and Mrs. Williams was standing there, a smug smirk on her face and three uniforms at her back.

"I have some more questions for Bobby," she informed Dean.

"Go to hell," Dean said and at that moment, meant it. It was awful, given what he knew about the place, but the woman clearly had no heart. Couldn't she have at least given them ten freaking minutes?

"Officers?" she asked, and they stepped forward. Dean stood up and Sam stood in between them, while Sarah grabbed up Lucy quickly. She immediately started protesting about being taken away from her brother and started wriggling to be set down.

"We'll go, okay?" Sam asked, one hand on Dean's chest and one outstretched to the first police officer in line.

"Daddy?" Bobby asked, his voice sounding as small as he looked in that bed.

"My name is Mrs. Williams, Bobby. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to wait outside while we talk some more, okay?" Mrs. Williams asked with a practiced, cheerful voice.

"No, I want them," Bobby argued with her.

"Just for five minutes, okay?" Mrs. Williams, continued on, and nodded at the officers. The first one stepped to the side and gave Dean a curt nod.

"I swear to God…" Dean began, but Sam was pulling him out of the room, Sarah at his heels, promising Bobby they'd be right back in a few minutes.

"Just let her talk to him. We haven't done anything wrong, Dean," she insisted. "If we refuse, we look guilty."

Sam gave him a look. He remembered the same things that Dean remembered; how they'd accused Dad of mistreating them. That crap foster home they'd spent one night in until Dad showed up and busted them out, making a run for it.

Dean felt like his entire body was on fire with adrenaline.

How much more was he supposed to be expected to take?

________________________________________________________________________

The room was dim, a few candles lit, probably representing prayers for loved ones in the same kind of hospital bed his son was being interrogated in.

About him.

"What the fuck? Huh?" Dean demanded from Heaven. "You fucking with me? Why? He said I was forgiven! So what's with all this…" he couldn't finish, Castiel's promise ringing in his ears.

_"Don't worry about the authorities, Dean. They're not looking for you any more. You've done your time, all is forgiven. You've got friends in high places."_

"My Father loves you…"

"If this is love, you can keep it!" he railed and cleared the altar of its contents with one sweep of his arm.

"I just wanted a life, okay? A family. So what the fuck, man?'

"Am I doing something wrong? I pay taxes now, dammit! Freaking taxes!"

"I don't steal or lust, or any of that shit. So what the hell? Why are you picking on me? Why can't I have a home, like everyone else? Why can't I keep my family together? "Why can't I be happy?"

Not surprisingly, the plastic version of Jesus on the crucifix had no answer for Dean.

He decided to let off some steam and maybe goad the big guy into an answer for freaking once.

________________________________________________________________________

"We'll be in touch," Mrs. Williams said, looking a little disappointed as she exited Bobby's room.

"Oh, stuff it up your…," Sarah started to tell her. Sam covered her mouth with the arm not holding Lucy before she could finish and Dean hid his bloody knuckles behind his back. Dean rubbed a thumb over the open sores lightly and thought guiltily of the chapel that he'd left in shambles; holes in the wall and the shattered pieces of Jesus he'd stepped over on his way out.

Mrs. Williams sniffed, and glared at Sarah before stalking away, her goon squad at her heels.

**December 23, 2015**

_**Two days until Christmas**_

"Let me see your hands," Sarah ordered him once they got home, and Bobby was tucked into bed. Sam was bouncing Lucy in his lap, trying to calm her down. Sarah had one of the doctors look Lucy over while they had waited for Bobby's scan results, and it turned out that she had an ear infection.

Dean held his hands out for her to inspect them, since not doing it would lead to yet another argument. The hint of another blow out had sat between them the entire ride home, simmering in the silence.

The hospital had no idea what had caused Bobby to faint and have a seizure. The doctor advised them to keep an eye on him, and follow up in a few days for another C.A.T. scan. Luckily, Sarah's job came with good health insurance at least, and everything they did at the hospital was covered. Until January the first, anyway, Dean thought grimly.

He sat still and let Sarah dab at his knuckles with disinfectant, and noted that she wasn't as careful as usual. In fact, when she was done, she tossed the bag of ice _at_ him instead of handing it over.

"I'm going to check on Bobby," Sarah said, looking at Sam and taking Lucy. "Thanks, Sam."

"You okay?" Sam asked Dean carefully after they had left the room.

"Fine," Dean answered, tossing the bag of ice into the sink. He'd had worse and didn't need it.

"You still want to go pick up that bike?" Sam asked.

"Sure, might as well," Dean decided. Bobby had written Santa a letter asking for a bike and nothing else. He also mentioned that Santa could keep the training wheels, and requested that he knock at the door instead of sneaking in during the middle of the night.

Sam gave Dean a nervous, hesitant look. "I'll go tell Sarah we're leaving."

Dean didn't need to tell Sarah he was leaving, she'd probably be relieved.

"Knock yourself out."

________________________________________________________________________

"Mom? Why doesn't Dad ever laugh anymore?"

"He's sad. Big people get sad sometimes."

"When he's sad, I'm sad."

"Me, too Bobby. Don't worry. Daddy will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm working on it. Sometimes big people need a kick in the butt."

"You're gonna kick Dad in his butt?!?"

"Yep. Ready for your bed time story?"

**December 24, 2015**

_**One day until Christmas**_

"What's this?" Dean demanded after he and Sam had come in from the garage. It was after midnight and the stupid bike had more parts than a damn car.

"Your stuff," Sarah said, arms folded in front of her and glaring at him; her face lit up by the blinking multi colored lights of the Christmas tree. "That's Sam's."

"Wha…What?"

"You heard me. Here," Sarah said, shoving papers at him.

Dean couldn't believe it. He glanced at the papers to see which attorney she planned on using and instead, found a map and a receipt.

"I booked you a room there. When you feel like talking, you know where I'll be," Sarah informed him.

"You…what?"

"Get out Dean, and take your brother with you," Sarah said, storming from the room, heading up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Whoa, whoa, this is my house too," Dean informed her, catching her arm and stopping her at the top of the steps.

"Dean, let's uh, just go. You guys should maybe talk in the morning," Sam called up quietly.

"Talk? Dean doesn't talk, Sam," Sarah scoffed.

"You know what? Fine. We're out of here," Dean decided. If she wanted him gone, so be it. He was tired of sleeping on a god damn couch anyway. Least he'd get a bed for once.

"Good. It's about damn time," Sarah whispered angrily.

"Way to kick a guy in the balls at Christmas, Sarah," Dean whispered back.

"I'm doing this for you," Sarah said, eyes welling up in tears.

"For me? You're kicking me out right before Christmas for me. Gee, and I didn't get you anything. I'll keep my eye out for something perfect," Dean said, letting go of her arm.

"There's a restaurant at the motel, so you're covered for meals. I checked it all out, seems perfect," Sarah explained.

"You…you checked it all out. Wow, thanks so much. That was really thoughtful," Dean tossed back sarcastically.

"I paid for two nights," Sarah went on, wiping the tears off her cheeks hastily.

"Well, aren't you generous," Dean said through a tightly clenched jaw.

"Bye, Sarah."

________________________________________________________________________

"Mr. Winchester, sign here please. The room is paid for, but we need a signature and a credit card for any incidentals," the clerk explained with a smile.

A smile that Dean _so_ wasn't in the mood for. He signed the paper, the pen tearing it a bit from him pressing down so hard.

"Merry Christmas," the overly cheerful man said. Dean gave him a look of annoyance.

"Oh, bite me."

________________________________________________________________________

"Hey Bobby, what's up?" Dean asked with fake enthusiasm, not wanting to let on that his life was a mess and he was holed up in a crap cottage style motel room that his soon to be ex wife had paid for two nights in advance. If he wasn't so freaking cheap, he'd have picked his own damn motel, but since she'd already paid…

"I uh, I'm not gonna be able to come for Christmas," Bobby explained, regret evident in his usual gruff tone. "Had a bit of an accident, and I'm laid up."

"What happened?" Dean asked, forgetting all his troubles immediately.

"Getting old, I guess. Got on the business end of a black dog's jaws, and zigged when I shoulda zagged," Bobby explained.

"We can…"

"Nothin' doing. You got kids and it's Christmas. They ain't spending it in a car coming to see an old man. I'll be all right, I'm at home now," Bobby insisted.

"Well, we could…"

"Now listen, there's somethin' I wanna tell you, so shut up a minute," Bobby interrupted again. Dean fell silent, recognizing the no nonsense tone.

"This whole thing made me do some thinking. I…uh…well I ain't getting no younger boy, and you and Sam are my family. Only family that I got," Bobby said in his usual gruff but loving way.

"Bobby, what…"

"Shut up and listen. I'm not one to see a lawyer get what's mine, so today I went and put my affairs in order early. Just in case. As of today, you boys own the whole kit and kaboodle."

"What?!"

"Ain't much. Don't got a runnin' car in the whole damn yard, but it's somethin' at least. If somethin' happens, you ain't gotta pay no damn lawyer or see a judge to get what I want ya to have. It's no one else's business but ours this way."

"How bad did you…"

"It's not bad, but like I said, got me thinkin' is all. I can't bear to part with this house, gonna live in it until the day I die, but I ain't stupid. The property's worth a decent penny, and I want you boys to have it later."

"We don't want…"

"I know you don't. You don't wanna think about me dyin' either, but it's inevitable kid. Besides, it ain't much anyway. Damn place needs a new roof and I haven't had the inclination to climb up there yet. Might be better off to tear the damn house down before you sell it."

"Bobby, don't talk like that, okay?"

"You tell Bobby that I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I'll be by as soon as this leg heals up."

"Whoa, hey, we'll come by and…"

"Merry Christmas, Dean. Pass that on to your brother, will ya?"

"Bobby, now hang on…"

Bobby had hung up before Dean could get the words out of his mouth.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what was that about?" Sam asked nervously.

"This is…just…" Dean shook his head, still looking at the cell phone.

"Dean, did you piss off a witch recently?" Sam asked carefully after Dean filled him in.

"No, and why would it be me, anyway? Maybe you pissed off a witch," Dean grumbled and Sam gave him a pointed look. "Not that I can remember," he conceded.

"There's more going on than your saying, though," Sam said watching his face.

"Maybe," Dean sighed.

"Well, it looks like we have plenty of time," Sam said looking around the run down cottage. "Did you tell Sarah that you wanted to hunt again? Is that why you've been sleeping on the couch?"

"I'm not suicidal Sam. No, I didn't tell her. We made a deal, remember?" Dean reminded him.

"Well, if that's not it, then you better start talking."

________________________________________________________________________

"Why didn't you tell me she was getting laid off? I'd never have talked about moving out," Sam scolded him.

"I don't know. I mean, if it's what you wanted," Dean shrugged.

"No, it wasn't like that. I could tell that you guys were having problems, I just thought maybe I was making it worse," Sam explained. "I mean, maybe you guys needed space."

"No, Sarah doesn't think like that at all. It's got nothing to do with you, okay?" Dean insisted.

"Well, why did she kick you out then? Er, us out," Sam asked.

"I don't know. I mean, yeah, the drinking thing was…but, still…I have no idea why she would up and flip out," Dean sighed.

"Maybe she's just upset about Bobby, and what happened," Sam suggested.

"Don't know, because she didn't see fit to explain," Dean said stubbornly, still hurt and angry that she'd tell him to leave like that. Did she buy that bullshit line from the social worker? She'd stuck up for him, but did she believe it somewhere deep down? The idea that she might think he'd do something like that burned in the pit of his stomach.

"You feel that?" Sam asked suddenly. He stood up and looked around the room carefully. Dean watched tensely, Sam's breath could be seen in the air.

"What the..." Dean said, and stood up waiting for something to happen, some indication of where it was coming from.

"Shit, I got nothin'," Sam said feeling his pockets and realizing he was unarmed. He looked at Dean hopefully.

"Me either," Dean said making his way slowly to the door.

"Dean!" Sam called and Dean whirled around, face to face with a very pissed off female ghost. She swung at him and he flew into the wall, the back of his head hitting so hard he saw stars. He braced himself against the wall with one head and shook his head once to clear it.

"This day just keeps getting better and better," Dean grumbled as he tried to keep out of her reach.

"I'll be right back," Sam promised, running for the door to get ammo. As the ghost flung him against a different wall, Dean berated himself for getting caught with his pants down. Retired or not, this was freaking unacceptable.

"Hey, we can talk about this," Dean told her, picking himself up off the floor and backing into a better position. Which wasn't the easiest thing to do, the room was tight, most of the floor space taken up by the bed.

The ghost just gave him an enraged look and Dean found himself against a third wall. "Anytime Sammy," Dean groaned from the floor.

Dean heard his cell phone start ringing, and it was two feet away. He made a grab for it as he got up, and then made a break for the door. When he was halfway there, it flung open and Dean dropped to the ground, Sam's gun discharging just before the cell phone rang again.

It was Sarah's cell, so he answered it in case it was something about the kids.

"Hello?"

"I just wanted to see if you got in okay."

"If I got in okay," Dean repeated.

"Yeah."

"We're really swell," Dean said, oozing as much sarcasm as he could into the phone. "I'm new to divorce, but I'm pretty sure the divorcer doesn't call the divorced to check on him."

"I never said anything about a divorce, Dean," Sarah said quickly.

"Uh, well what am I supposed to think when you pack my shit and tell me to get out?" Dean demanded to know. "Did you think my life hadn't turned shitty enough lately?"

"Your life is my life, Dean. If you're miserable, I'm miserable," Sarah said, and he could tell she was crying again.

Good. Maybe she should have thought of that before she packed up his stuff.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and Dean ducked, while Sam took another shot at the ghost. Dean didn't even look, his blood was too busy boiling over that on top of the insult of throwing him out, she'd have the nerve to call.

"What was that?" Sarah asked, sounding alarmed.

"A gun," Dean replied flippantly.

"Are you hunting?" Sarah asked.

"I made a promise, Sarah, remember?" Dean asked, annoyed. Besides, he wasn't hunting, the stupid thing was hunting them. He'd been out of the game for a few years but he still remembered how shit worked, and this was freaking ridiculous. His Dad would have had his ass.

"Well, uh, I'll let you go then. You sound busy," Sarah said as the ghost appeared again, right in front of him. He ducked just in time from its reach, and Sam turned and aimed.

"Yeah, yeah, bye," Dean said annoyed and snapped the phone shut.

Sam fired another blast into the ghost and Dean gave him a pointed look.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well, did you bring me anything?" he asked.

Sam grinned and handed him Dean's favorite, the weight familiar in his hands. He enjoyed the feeling of the smooth cold steel of the barrel and he checked it quickly. Fully loaded.

It might not last long, but life was good again.

________________________________________________________________________

"Damn, haven't smelled that stink in a while. Haven't missed that at all," Dean commented as they watched body of the long dead girl burn.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sam agreed, wrinkling his nose.

"I am _dead_ tired," Dean said stretching his arms upwards.

"I don't miss that," Sam said dryly.

"What?"

"Puns. You still suck," Sam informed him, but with a grin on his face.

Dean laughed.

"Now, that I miss," Sam said then, his expression changing to a serious one. The firelight was illuminating his face, and Dean ignored the sight of the reflection of fire in his eyes.

"What?"

"Laughing."

"Well, I mean…stuff…and…" Dean fumbled to try and defend himself.

"There were at least a hundred salt shells in the trunk, Dean," Sam told him. Dean had kept some, just in case, but he knew there had only been a dozen. There were nowhere near a hundred shells back there.

"Heh, guess you took me seriously the other day. Admit it, you want back in the game, too," Dean answered, smiling a little that his little brother shared the same compulsion that he did.

"Yeah, I kind of do. I mean, what are we doing here Dean?" Sam asked.

"It seemed like the thing to do. I mean, with the kids and Sarah…" Dean said, running a hand through his hair. It had felt good, that familiar adrenaline rush, but it was already over. He had responsibilities now.

"That's the thing Dean, I didn't make those shells," Sam told him seriously.

"What?"

"Did you make them?" Sam asked.

"No." Dean said, his mind working fast.

"Kinda funny, how she throws you out, but books us a room. One with a ghost haunting it," Sam commented, smiling big.

"I…that….she…Get in the car."

________________________________________________________________________

The Christmas tree was lit when Dean pulled into the driveway. It was Christmas Eve still, but in another two hours it would be officially Christmas.

Sarah was at the door and opened it before his foot touched the bottom step.

"You planned this," he accused, taking the first step and she nodded once.

"We could have been killed. That was a nasty ass poltergeist," he went on, climbing the rest of the stairs quickly until he was right in front of her, and she went a little pale.

"Are you okay? Did it hurt you?" she asked, looking him over at once.

"Eh, nothin' we ain't used to. Right Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam just laughed.

"I…you're not mad then?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Pack your stuff," Dean said seriously.

"Dean, I'm sorry, okay? I thought you needed…you wouldn't talk to me so…" Sarah began babbling, and Dean interrupted her with a firm kiss on the mouth.

"I'm spending Christmas with my family. We're going to Bobby's," Dean explained when he finally broke it off, and Sarah smiled at him; the way that she used to. The way she did the first time that he'd picked her up for an actual date. A smile that reached her eyes the first time he'd told her that he loved her. The same smile she used when she told him she loved him back.

Screw it all. The house was falling apart and they were losing it anyway. She lost her job, and freaking children services were going to be back to breathe down their necks. He could get a job as a mechanic anywhere, and Bobby was part of his family, too. He needed them and if they had to, they'd rent a place close by until he was on his feet again.

It was amazing how getting his ass knocked around by a ghost had made everything a lot more simple again. He always had his best ideas when adrenaline was pumping through his veins.

"Big Bobby talked me through making the shells on the phone," Sarah admitted. "He said he couldn't come this year, but he didn't say why."

"We'll talk on the way. Go get the kids and let's get crackin'," Dean ordered. Sarah smiled and started to turn back into the house when Dean grabbed her.

"I'll be giving you _your_ Christmas present as soon as we get a second alone," he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, blushing a little.

"I think we were wrong Dean. You can't be someone else. Not for us, not for anyone," Sarah whispered back.

"We'll talk about it later. I promise," Dean said seriously before kissing his wife again. When he broke it off, he hugged her tightly; one hand at the back of her head, and he whispered in her ear, "This was the best Christmas present, Sarah."

She just nodded, and kissed his cheek in response, brushing warm tears against his cheek before he whispered again.

"Thank you."

**December 25, 2015**

_**Christmas Day**_

The shadow slithered its way through the empty kitchen, swirling over the chairs one by one, feeling them, searching. There was a lingering heat there, and it languished in it a bit, before going on.

They were gone, but they had just gone. It went through the house, room by room looking for prey and came up empty. In the beds, it paused again, the slight warmth contrasting against its own essence. Its natural state of being was a complete absence of heat, and rubbing against this new sensation felt good. _Too good_, and it went too far to feel warm.

Reluctantly and full of fear, it returned when called.

The conjurer was not pleased. Punishments and repercussions were forthcoming. It had cost the conjurer much to open a door for it to cross the plane into the world of humans, and the trip had been wasted.

It quaked with fear as the conjurer railed and raged.

And begged for a second chance.

________________________________________________________________________  
"Look Uncle Bobby! Watch me!" Bobby called from the driveway.

"I see ya," Uncle Bobby promised as young Bobby rode down the driveway yet again, sans training wheels.

"See? See?" Bobby called excitedly, wearing one of Uncle Bobby's coveted trucker caps.

"You're gonna be drivin' soon kid!" Bobby called back, beaming at his namesake. He'd been a lot worse of than he'd let on, just as Dean had suspected. It had taken both him and Sam to help him get out onto the front porch, his leg bone shattered and held in place with pins.

Bobby squealed with delight, and rode down the driveway again, stopping at the end and carefully turning the bike back around to head towards the house again.

"He's growing like a weed," he told Dean over his cup of black coffee.

"Don't I know it," Dean agreed, sipping his own.

"Told ya not to put them in a car, didn't I?" Bobby grumbled a little.

"Yep, you did," Dean acknowledged, beaming proudly at defying the older man's wishes.

"Well, since you still don't listen fer shit, got plenty of rooms for everyone," Bobby said gruffly, keeping up the pretense.

"Don't want to put you to any trouble," Dean answered.

"Did I say it was trouble?" Bobby asked.

"Well, if you're sure," Dean said, trying not to laugh.

"Can't just up and leave already," Bobby reasoned. "Kids need a break from that car."

"You're probably right," Dean agreed.

The front door opened then and Sarah and Sam came out. Sarah's eyes were red, and Sam looked tense. Dean stood up quickly. "What?"

Sarah didn't answer, and instead grabbed him and held on for dear life.

"There…the news," Sam began. "There was some kind of a problem with a natural gas line. I…our whole street, the whole neighborhood is gone," Sam explained.

"The whole neighborhood?" Dean asked, while Sarah cried against his chest.

"Yeah," Sam said.

Dean's mind flashed to all their neighbors, their children.

It could have been them. His arms tightened around Sarah and he stifled a shudder.

"Watch me, Uncle Bobby!"

________________________________________________________________________

"Now I lay me down to sleep," Bobby prompted Lucy.

"Now I…" Lucy began, loud and proud.

"Shhh…it's lights out Lucy. I'll get in trouble."

"Sorry."

"Whisper," Bobby ordered.

"Now I lay me down to sleep."

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep," they said together solemnly, heads bowed, but Lucy sneaking peeks at her older brother.

"If I should die before I wake," Bobby said.

"What's die?" Lucy asked.

"It's when you go to Heaven," Bobby explained.

"Oh."

"If I should die before I wake," Bobby began again, but Lucy was sniffling.

"Are you crying?"

Lucy just nodded.

"You're not going to die, Lucy," Bobby said impatiently, but Lucy just looked at him, her eyes welling in more tears. Bobby started to panic then. He was supposed to be in bed, and if he got caught he'd get into trouble.

"Okay, never mind. Just get in bed," Bobby ordered.

Lucy did as she was told, climbing into bed, and Bobby fixed her covers like Mom always did it.

"I'm scared," Lucy sniffled when Bobby started to go back to his own room. He was a big boy now, and he was getting his own room.

"You're not a baby any more Lucy," Bobby told her.

Lucy nodded, but still looked scared. Bobby looked to the door that lead to his own, big boy room, and then back at his sister again.

"I'll be right back," he promised and tip toed to his bedroom. He came back a few seconds later, carrying his pillow and special blanket.

Bobby laid his blanket down on the floor between Lucy's bed and the door. He never saw the shadow in the hallway, and when he laid down, he didn't hear the footsteps leading down the hall into the last bedroom on the left.

That night he slept soundly, exhausted as small boys are at the end of a Christmas day. There were no nightmares to trouble him, no strange, pressing feelings to frighten him.

Bobby Winchester had no idea that his father knew that he'd snuck out of bed, or that he was so proud of him that it made his heart ache.

He also didn't know that on that night, his father didn't dream of hellish deeds, but memories of two other children, one guarding the door so the other would feel safe.

________________________________________________________________________

Fin

A/N: About the baby's name. Lucy is short for Louise, named after Louis-Joseph Chevrolet, race car driver and co-founder of Chevrolet Motor Car Company. Dean had named his son Robert John, and he felt it was unfair to hog all the good family names, no matter how much Sam protests that he'll never get married or have kids. So, Mary Jessica will have to wait until Sammy settles down finally :-)

Thoughts?


End file.
